


Icicle

by Shayheyred



Category: due South
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PWP, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-23
Updated: 2011-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shayheyred/pseuds/Shayheyred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A genius who goes out in a blizzard looking for a jaywalker deserves some sort of attention</p><hr/>
            </blockquote>





	Icicle

"Fraser," Kowalski says, "you're like an icicle."

Benton attempts to grin his assent but the muscles of his face fail to comply. "Buh," he stammers through frozen lips. "B-buh-huh—"

"What's he say?"

Kowalski scratches his chin and shrugs. "Beats me."

"Sounded like 'buh.'" Vecchio leans closer and pitches his voice louder, as if Benton's eardrums are frozen, too. Maybe they are. "Benny – what happened?"

"Buh," Benton repeats, more forcefully, frustrated by his tongue, which feels like a slab of elk meat just pulled from the bottom of the freezer. "Buh - _huh_ -lzzzz—"

"'Buh-huh-lzzz—'" Vecchio punches Kowlalski in the arm in a completely disingenuous show of surprise. "I get it! Do you suppose he's trying to say 'blizzard?'"

"Don't touch me," Kowalski grouses mildly. "You got caught in a blizzard, Frase?"

"The one we told you not to go out in?" Vecchio adds smugly. "'S that what happened?"

Benton rolls his eyes, the only part of him still under his control. "Hmm. Mmm-hmm."

"I think that's what happened," Kowalski says. "Whaddya think?"

"Could be. Benny is kind of an idiot that way."

"Yeah," says Kowalski, "so what shall we do about it?"

"Gee, I dunno. Maybe we should try to warm him up."

"Ya think?" Kowalski considers the ice-encrusted figure before them. "Because a genius who goes out in a blizzard looking for a jaywalker deserves some sort of attention, wouldn't you agree, Detective Vecchio?"

"I would indeed, Detective Kowalski."

Benton regards them with narrowed eyes. "Wait, I–

"So," says Kowalski. "Shall we boil some water?"

"He's not having a baby, moron." Vecchio glances around the room "Hmm. Think we should move him closer to the fireplace?"

"Why not? That bear skin rug over there."

Two sets of arms grab Benton and manhandle him to the ground. It happens so fast he hasn't time to protest. Or maybe he doesn't want to.

"I think we better unwrap him," rumbles Vecchio.

"Because the way to cure frostbite," Kowalski rasps.

"–is to rub the flesh gently," they finish together.

Benton begins to protest that no, that's not what you do to cure frostbite; you use warm water on the affected area, and besides he hasn't got frostbite. But a hot mouth against his own prevents a reply, even if he were able to stammer one out through his wind-chapped lips. He's momentarily startled, not so much by the kiss as by the sudden cool air on his loins as one of them pulls down his trousers and shoves aside his long johns (and is it Ray or… _Ray_? who disrobes him so peremptorily? Probably Ray Kowalski, because Ray Vecchio has greater care for clothing, and he thinks the tongue jousting with his own feels very much like Ray Vecchio's), but it hardly matters because the thrill of a hot mouth on his cold lips is joined by the sensation of an even hotter one on his penis.

The heat and suction has a predictable effect; as wet warmth surrounds it, his chilled member springs to attention like a Mountie protecting the Prime Minister. "Oh," he exclaims breathlessly.

Hands are at his coat now, and his shirt, his boots (finally!) and his red underwear are pulled off and flung away. Perhaps he should protest – this is hardly how a grown man should behave, but on the other hand, he's growing warmer by the moment. But the mouth kissing him slides down his neck and disappears, and he is momentarily bereft. Temporarily deserted, he opens one eye (he's squinted them shut as that delicious sensation accosted him) in time to witness Ray Vecchio, naked to the waist, slither behind a Ray Kowalski naked from the waist down. He notes that odd disparity of dress, and also that yes, he was correct that it was Kowalski's talented mouth sucking him, but all thoughts disappear as he watches Ray Vecchio press aside Kowalski's cheeks and plunge his tongue between them.

Oh yes, _now_ he's warm.

Ray Kowalski gasps and for a moment pulls his mouth away. "Damn!" he groans in a guttural voice. Benton feels instantly flushed, so warm, in fact, that the memory of hours spent pursuing a miscreant in a raging blizzard vanishes utterly. He watches, transfixed, as Kowalski writhes against Vecchio's mouth. The sight alone brings him to the brink of climax, but Kowalski recovers himself enough to press his fingers against the base of Benton's cock. "Not yet, Frase," Kowalski grunts, hips rotating against Vecchio's mouth. He grins widely as Benton takes a deep breath and obeys.

Sensation flares again as the rest of their clothing is discarded, and swells to the cresting point as Ray Kowalski slides slicked fingers into him. He spreads his legs, raises his hips, waits impatiently. But first he must watch as Ray Vecchio's tongue is replaced with his cock, and Kowalski breathes and pushes back until he is seated firmly, his pale buttocks speared by Vecchio's long erection. They pause, with heavy breaths and soft moans, until Kowalski's ready.

Ray Kowalski is surprisingly strong. His sinewy arms flip Benton expertly, pulling him backwards. He goes willingly, legs spread, and feels the tip of Ray's cock nudge at his entrance. He relaxes, breathes, muffles a groan as Ray slides so very slowly inside him. Before he was too chilled to speak – now he is speechless with arousal.

It takes a few moments to get a rhythm going, but they've done this before, in varying configurations. That's one of the benefits of sharing your body with your two best friends, Benton thinks with his last few brain cells. Everyone is willing, if competitive.

Through the vessel of Ray Kowalski's body, he feels tension that must come from Ray Vecchio, who has sped up their mutual thrusts and is making sounds that at another time might embarrass any one of them. He thrusts harder into Kowalski – Kowalski in turn increases the roughness of the thrusts that are driving Benton to a frenzy.

There is a tipping point where nothing exists but sensation, when the world is as white as a blizzard but as warm as a white dwarf star, and then with one last thrust Benton is falling, falling, crashing over the edge to climax. Behind him Ray (which one?) shouts, and the other grunts, and the world stops completely until they collapse in a heap, one on top of the other, on the soft warmth of the fur rug.

Benton lies there, utterly exhausted, the trickle of Kowalski's come between his cheeks, the heavy weight of one Ray on his chest, the other Ray's arm flung limply across both of them. Time passes; perhaps he dozes. When his eyes flutter open he sees two sets of eyes on him.

"So, Benny," says one Ray. "Feeling warmer?"

"Still an icicle?" snorts the other.

"Muhhhhh," Benton murmurs, supremely contented. "Muhh- _hull_."

"What's he say?"

Kowalski scratches his chin and shrugs. "I'm pretty sure it was 'I've been melted.'"


End file.
